


Rules for Happiness

by madameofmusic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Rules for happiness: something to do, someone to love, something to hope for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules for Happiness

  1. Something to do



Derek Nurse is familiar with the sadness. He’s familiar with the ache it brings to his chest, the pit in his stomach that never really seems to go away, physical manifestations of something mental. Something that, no matter how hard he tried, how hard his moms tried, wouldn’t ever go away. It didn’t make sense, but sadness never did. He’d accepted it by the time he got to Samwell, turned the anger and frustration, the apathy, every overwhelming emotion he’d ever felt, into pages of words.

He avoids late nights alone, early mornings alone. Really, he avoids being alone at all, an easy thing to do now. When he’s not in class, he’s at the Haus, and when he’s not at the Haus, he’s with Chowder, or with Dex, or, on one strange occasion, with Jack and Shitty talking about representation in media over lunch.

The pit never seems to go away though, not even on his best days, when the rest of his body feels weightless and his abdomen hurts from laughing so hard he doubles over. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens enough that the return of the bone-deep ache of sadness late at night hurts more than it would any other night. 

It fades on the ice though, shriveling into something small and easy to ignore as soon as his blades hit. He becomes centered, focused on something else other than the nagging feeling in the back of his head that tells him he doesn’t deserve to be happy. 

That’s the best he can do, he thinks. Keep busy, and pretend he’s fine, like he’s chill, and forget that some nights, he feels like he’s being swallowed by the weight, drowning in everything he’s ever felt all at once.   
  


  1. Someone to love



He writes odes to William Poindexter. He writes sonnets to his red hair, haikus about the spark in his eyes when he argues with Derek. He pens ballads about Dex’s hands alone, and a few limericks full of double entendres about stick-handling when he was feeling particularly whimsical. 

Derek’s run through every literary analysis he could think of for Dex, has tried every word out on him, and they still blank in comparison, weak and underperforming in the face of the man himself.

The first time Derek allowed himself to admit his need to be around Dex might have been something more than just an innate, primal urge to get a rise out of the other, it was 2 AM, the night after a game.

2 AM, usually, is a time for introspection, for pushing down the lump in his throat and trying to keep his hands from shaking, tossing and turning in his bed as his mind races faster than he can keep up. 2 AM is a time for sleep only after the most tiring of days. 

This particular 2 AM, though, had him on high, lips still curled into a small smile after Samwell’s win a few hours previous. That wasn’t what made him feel like he was flying though. They were on a winning streak, and they’d been predicted to win this one too. 

It was after the game, when Dex had clapped him on the back in congratulations. Derek had gotten an assist, and a goal, all in the last period, and it had pushed them safely to a win. Derek smiled full force, and Dex nodded, once, and met Derek’s smile with one of his own. “That was a good game, man.”

It was the first time Dex had complimented him without sounding begrudging about it, and Derek was so shocked at first he almost didn’t say anything back. 

Love was too strong of a word, Derek thought. He didn’t hate Dex (in fact, he’d never hated him), and after that game, it clicked.

He  _ liked _ him. Derek wanted to kiss him not because he was  _ frustrated _ , like he’d previously thought, but because he  _ liked _ him. It wigged him out and delighted him in equal measure. He was okay with it, but not okay with it at the same time. 

He hadn’t ever really liked anyone before, not like that. There’d been healthy interest before, sure, but never romantic interest. He’d never wanted to hold anyone’s hand before, or curl up and watch a movie with them. It was, in a sense, exhilarating, and every time he thought about it, it made the pit in his stomach shrink just the tiniest bit, replaced with the memory of Dex’s hand on his shoulder, Dex smiling back at him with no anger in his eyes whatsoever.    
  


  1. Something to hope for



It happens one hot May evening, right before graduation. The sun’s already set, and the air is unusually humid still, making Derek’s clothing stick to his skin. He’d turned in his last paper a few hours before, and had spent the rest of the day sprawled out on the front lawn of the house, enjoying the last day of Shitty’s rants, of Jack’s quiet chirping, trying not to think about how, in three months, he’d only see Jack on TV, and Shitty at the occasional party if he could get a break from Harvard. 

Tomorrow, his moms would be there to pick him up, and he’d be back in New York for the summer. He didn’t want to think too hard about that, either.

The ache in his chest was present, but easier to manage than anything else, almost comforting in its familiarity amidst the changes coming the next day. 

Ransom and Holster had turned in an hour or so previous, Ransom claiming he needed to study for his last final (even though Derek was pretty sure the future co-captain could ace it in his sleep if he felt so inclined). Holster followed behind, muttering about needing to make sure Ransom actually got sleep that night.

He could hear Jack and Bitty in the kitchen, murmuring to one another as Bitty made whatever baked good he’d decided was more important than studying. 

Derek felt someone plop down next to him, and he cracked an eye open to see who it was. 

Dex.

“Yo.” Derek said, closing his eye again. The open air of the front lawn was starting to chill, and Derek was tired from finals, still getting over their loss at the Frozen Four. He was considering sleeping out there, right on the front lawn. 

Dex had other ideas. “Hey, Nurse?” He said, shifting until Derek knew Dex was facing him now, instead of sitting parallel.

Derek sighed, abandoning the idea of sleeping outside, and sat up. “What’s up, Poindexter?”

Dex looked at him for a second, lips pulled into a tight, thin line. “C’mon,” he said finally, before standing. 

Derek frowned, but didn’t bother asking, his curiosity as to where they were going outweighed by the need to not start anything with Dex. He looked too serious to mess with, and Derek didn’t want to tinge their easy peace with anger right before summer. 

They walked quietly for several minutes before Dex stopped. They were at the Pond. Right as Derek opened his mouth to ask why they were here, Dex spoke. 

“I think this is my favorite part of campus.” He said, eyes staring out over the Pond, filled with some sort of emotion Derek couldn’t place. 

_ My favorite place on campus is anywhere with you, _ the poet in him was tempted to say. “Yeah?” He said instead. “Why’s that?”

Dex shrugged, and looked over at him. “It’s a good place for thinking.” He said, and then walked  few feet forward and sat down. 

Derek followed, plopping unceremoniously next to him. “Anything in particular you’re thinking about?” 

Dex’s jaw tightened, and he shrugged again. He was silent for several moments, and Derek wanted to fill it with words, but a weird tension had fallen over them. 

“Do you like me?” Dex sad, finally.

Derek’s mind reeled. “Of course. You’re a chill dude.” He choked out. 

Dex snorted. “I’d like to see that on paper.” He said, and his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “But that’s not what I meant.”

He turned to Derek, looked at him with steel in his eyes, and asked again. “Do you like me?” 

Derek chewed on the inside of his lip, and then nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He said, his voice quiet and hoarse. If Dex knew, then there was nothing Derek could do about it. Might as well fess up, get the inevitable drama out of the way over summer, and then they could be fine in August.

Dex nodded, once, and turned to face the Pond once more. “I think-” he said, and then stopped.

Derek pulled his legs close to his chest, and felt terrified. “You think?” 

“I think I like you back.” Dex said, quiet. 

Derek was confused, but the sudden, visceral panic that had made his mind fuzzy for the briefest of moments began to subside into happiness. He was still mostly confused, though. “Oh?”

Dex nodded again. “I think so. I’m sorry I can’t say for sure.” And then- “I found your poems.” 

“Oh.” Derek said. Dex had found his poems, the endless words so obviously dedicated to him, even though Derek never said his name, not even once. “Well, you don’t have to-”

Dex held up a hand, and Derek stopped talking. “I realized it before I read them, that I might like you.” 

“Oh.” Derek said again, thinking at this point it might have been all he was capable of doing.

“You’re gonna have to give me time. To think. Also, we couldn’t tell anyone if we decided to… to take this anywhere. Not yet.”

Derek smiled then, full force. “Understandable” 

“Maybe Bitty, but that’s it.” Dex was smiling back now. 

Derek leaned in. “Of course.” He said, voice dropping into a quieter pitch. 

“And I couldn’t tell my parents.” 

“My moms would know as soon as I walked through the door, but they wouldn’t tell.” Derek reached out, and placed his hand gently on Dex’s cheek, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. 

“Derek?” Dex said, almost whispering. 

“Will.” Derek said, and then leaned in. “Tell me if this is okay.” 

Dex nodded, and met him in the middle, pressing his lips to Derek’s in a firm, dry kiss, then pulled back. 

Derek was grinning fully now, the ache in his chest from earlier gone, replaced by something warmer, gentler. “C’mon. Let’s head back. It’s getting cold, and we don’t want you getting sick right before you have to work all summer, right?” 

Dex rolled his eyes, but stood. “Don’t think you can mother me, Nurse. We’re not anything official yet. I don’t even know if I like you all that much.” He said, though the blatant affection in his voice betrayed him. 

“You like me.” Derek said, brushing his hand against Dex’s and then tucking it into his pocket. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Dex said, smiling at him fondly. 

“Well, that’s all I can hope for.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The quote is by Immanuel Kant. If you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out. I wrote this all in one go, and edited briefly, but it's also finals week, you know? 
> 
> [My tumblr](http://whiskeytangofrogman.tumblr.com/)


End file.
